


Looks Like A Cold Cold Winter

by Munchy



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Fluff, Gift Giving, Kells trying to be a good bro here, M/M, Preston stress knits, Snow, literally that's it, nothing... happens in this fic other than Arthur being a love-struck teenager, scarf, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28472244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munchy/pseuds/Munchy
Summary: “Would you like a scarf?” he offered.Maxson looked up, blinking at him, “I don’t need it.”The older man crossed his arms and gave the other an unimpressed look. Maxson avoided eye contact, and after a tense moment that ended with Maxson sniffing, Preston said, “I’ll go get it."
Relationships: Preston Garvey/Arthur Maxson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Looks Like A Cold Cold Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! And Happy New Year!!!
> 
> Wanted to get this out for Christmas, but didn't find the time. So, now it's a general winter fluff fic. The headcanons that Kells and Maxson are actually pretty close bros comes from Cave Rat. I always love your headcanons. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Fic title comes from a Bing Crosby song of the same name.

Preston spotted the Elder almost right away, nestled between a group of Brotherhood Knights. Despite the stares he was receiving from the rest of the Castle’s occupants, he remained stoic, hands placed behind his back with a straight posture. It was quite the contrast from the other militiamen, who hunched forward and rushed through the courtyard to escape the sudden blizzard.

Preston wasted no time making his way over from the radio tower. Maxson must have seen his approach as the Knights parted and Maxson stepped out of the circle. The moment he was in the storm’s path, his coat and hair became speckled with white snowflakes. Still, he didn’t seem phased by the biting cold and stuck his hand out.

“Greetings Colonel Garvey. I presume the General is on his way,” he asked. 

Preston took the Elder’s hand and shook it, noticing that Maxson was wearing fingerless gloves rather than something warmer than Preston’s mittens, “He is,” he then looked at the approaching dark clouds of the blizzard, “Though, I’m afraid he’ll probably be delayed. Why don’t we head to my office and wait for him there?”

Maxson raised a brow, taking his hand back, “Do you think he’ll be that long? I was hoping for a short meeting.”

“I’m not sure how bad blizzards get in the Capital Wasteland, but here, they cause more than just slight delays, Elder Maxson,” Preston said. 

Maxson sighed, releasing a large cloud of mist into the air before it was carried away in the wind. Preston watched as he pulled the collar of his coat up in an attempt to shield his face. 

“Would you like a scarf?” he offered. 

Maxson looked up, blinking at him, “I don’t need it.”

The older man crossed his arms and gave the other an unimpressed look. Maxson avoided eye contact, and after a tense moment that ended with Maxson sniffing, Preston said, “I’ll go get it."

* * *

It didn't take long to find the scarf, tucked away in the disorganized shelf of Preston's office. 

The long, patched up knitted mess had been in the making for a few years. A hobby Preston picked up as a young boy learning to darn socks. Though, in the last few years, he'd learned that knitting could alleviate some stress.

Probably why this particular scarf was nearly a mile long…

Rolling it up and taking it back outside, Preston spotted Maxson and his Knights standing near the radio station. The shack walls were quickly erected for the winter season and were a poor shield against the blizzard rolling in.

The only source of heat that was being generated was an ancient electric heater that had been set up on the radio controls. Joshua, Radio Freedom's DJ, had made the lucky find, and no sane person was gonna take that from him unless they had a death wish.

Which was probably why Maxson was huddled against the shack walls. His Knights were stationed around him, looking vigilant. The older man wondered if power armor had some kind of thermal heating built-in.

Preston walked over, pulling out the rolled-up scarf from under his arm, "Here."

Maxson stared at the knitted disaster, looking at how large it appeared to be. 

“Oh, here let me help,” Preston said as he unraveled the scarf, the length of which piled at his feet. It was a mishmash of different yarn colors that clashed horribly, but yarn could be scarce at times and Preston couldn’t afford to be picky, especially when this scarf was more or less for stress relief. A weird tapestry of his life and mental state for the last year or so.

He began wrapping the scarf around Maxson's neck, throwing the ends around carelessly. Maxson stood stock still, eyes wide and mouth pressed tight as the scarf trapped his head. The Knights around them shuffled, looking at the odd pair with an awkward silence. 

Eventually, Preston noticed Maxson's red face just as a gust of wind blew past them.

"Are you alright? You don't have a fever, do you?" Preston asked. 

It took a moment of just Maxson staring at him with steely-blue eyes before he shook his head and answered, "Fine! Perfectly fine, Colonel Garvey," his voice was muffled behind the yarn.

Preston tilted his head, not completely convinced, but gave the younger a smile, "If you say so, Elder Maxson." Tying the end of the scarf, the miss-matched, monstrosity was practically piled onto Maxson's head and shoulders. Spotty stitching covered his nose and mouth with bits of his beard sticking through. His face was still red as a tato, however. 

"Maybe we should get you a hat too," Preston remarked as he noticed how red Maxson's ears had gotten.

" _No!"_ Maxson yelled before quieting with a cough, "I mean, no, this is quite enough to keep me warm, thank you," he tugged at the scarf a bit, as though getting a good look at the stitch work, "Truly, thank you," Maxson said again, face going even redder.

"You're… welcome," Preston said, a slightly confused tone in his voice.

They stood there for a few more minutes, waiting for the General. The snow started to pile around them. Flakes began to stick to them both. Preston watched as a few flakes fell onto Maxson's dark hair. He wondered idly if he could convince the Elder to move inside now, but his thoughts were interrupted.

Jason stuck his head out from behind the shack wall, "Colonel Garvey," he greeted.

Preston snapped his head to him, "Yes?"

"I've been informed that the General had to stop for the night, due to the storm."

"Is he alright?" Preston asked, a slightly uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"From what I heard, he's fine. Like I said, the blizzard came in quick and he had to stop for the night. He should be here by tomorrow morning, though." Joshua said. 

Preston sighed, "Very well, thanks for the heads up, Joshua. Keep me updated."

"Can do!" Joshua said before dipping back to his post.

Preston turned to Maxson, "Looks like we’ll have to hold this meeting another time. I'm sorry about this, Elder Maxson."

"It's disappointing but understandable," Maxson said, "We'll try again tomorrow."

Preston sighed, "Alright, hopefully, the snow won't be too deep," he looked up then with a kind smile, "Stay warm Elder Maxson," he joked.

Maxson flushed again before nodding with a grunt. He turned on his heel and was making his way out of the Castle with his Knights, heading for their vertibird.

Preston chuckled to himself as he started making his way back inside the Castle, looking for something hot to eat.

* * *

Arthur excused himself to his private quarters almost immediately after landing. He reported what happened to Lancer Captain Kells just before, walking with him on the catwalks as he explained. Kells only looked at him with confusion the whole time.

Arthur ignored him, leaving him behind as he closed his door with a good night. He grabbed onto the scarf wrapped around his neck and shoulders. He noted the smell of the old yarn. A mixture of earthy firewood and caster soap.

Like Preston.

Arthur closed his eyes and imagined for a moment what it would be like to wake up next to the man. Surrounded by mismatched, warm blankets, soft pillows, and a wood-burning stove. He would turn over and see a calm sleeping face. He would take his hand and caress Preston's cheeks, slowly waking the other up. Then, brown eyes would flutter open, staring at him with a sleepy yet loving expression. Preston would smile, his face lighting up with the morning sun. And he'd smile back before leaning forward and— 

"Elder Maxson?"

Arthur jumped, a yell getting caught in his throat. He whipped around with wide eyes, staring at Kells, who had poked his head through the door.

"You didn't answer when I knocked," Kells explained as he stepped into the room, closing it off from the rest of the ship.

Arthur felt his face _burn_ as he stared at Kells, "I— "

"Is that Colonel Garvey's?" Kells asked suddenly as he pointed at the scarf.

"It— Well— The blizzard…" Arthur stuttered, before coughing, "He offered."

Kells rose a brow, crossing his arms, "I see," he gave a warm, familiar chuckle, calming Arthur almost instantly.

"You know…" he said, scarf muffling his voice.

"It's not hard to see, Elder Maxson," Kells said with a kind smile, "You have a _type,_ Sir."

Maxson buried his face in his hands, which only pushed his face further into the scarf. The awful feeling of embarrassment curdled his stomach, "Oh Saint Monica…"

Kells chuckled again, "Alright, time to fess up," he grabbed the chair at the table and sat down in it, "He give you that scarf as a gift?"

Arthur took a moment to compose himself before ripping the scarf off, throwing the large, colorful arrangement onto the table. He took a seat and said, "I think it was a loan."

Kells reached for one of the bottles and cups in the middle, "Loan?" He asked as he poured himself and Arthur a drink.

"I was cold, and he took notice. Offered a spare," he pointed to the scarf, one of the long ends had tumbled over the side of the table, displaying its patchwork, "He didn't ask for it back."

Kells handed him a cup, Arthur assumed it was what was left of the bourbon, "He didn't ask, or did you run away too fast for him to say anything?"

Arthur smacked his forehead against the table, groaning. He did leave rather quickly, unable to take any more of the awkward tension. Arthur reached out and grabbed the bourbon though. Kells barked a laugh.

After a long pause and a few sips, Arthur finally sat up and said, "He… he told me to stay warm." The confession made his face flush.

Kells' brows rose as he took a sip of his drink, "Ah… then it might have been a gift."

Arthur blinked, "You think so?"

"Forgive me, Elder Maxson, but Colonel Garvey seems to be the type of man that would just ask you to return something if he didn't actually want you to have it," Kells said with a light tone, amused by Arthur's uncharacteristic embarrassment.

Arthur blinked at the older man, blinking at him as he thought about what Kells said, "I... Yes, he would do that, wouldn't he?" He took a small swig of his drink, "Then… we'll find out tomorrow whether he wants it back or not."

There was a pause where Kells simply looked at him before saying, "You really like him, don't you?"

Arthur looked at the scarf on the table. Remembered the way Preston wrapped it around his shoulders with mitten covered hands. The amused smile on his lips as he looked up at Arthur. The impossibly warm feeling Arthur had in his stomach as those brown eyes became concerned, and Preston asked about his health.

"Yeah," he said. 

Kells blinked at him before sinking further into his chair with a stunned look, "Damn."

* * *

The snow was about three feet deep when the sun finally rose. The blizzard had lasted all night, keeping Preston up, wondering if the General was alright. Looking at the courtyard, now he wondered if he’d have to cancel the meeting with the Brotherhood again. 

He heard the vertibird before he saw it. Its engines were loud against the quietness of the morning. The ‘bird landed just outside the Castle’s main entrance, and a few minutes later Elder Maxson waddled in with his entourage of Knights. He had a bit of trouble getting through the snow at first, unlike his power armored comrades, but he managed without falling over.

Curiously, he was still wearing Preston’s scarf. The long, ugly thing was wrapped around his shoulders, but an end must have gotten loose as it billowed in the breeze. After his curious staring, Preston snapped himself out of his thoughts and went to greet the Elder. 

“Good morning, Elder Maxson,” he said as he trudged through the courtyard, “Sorry about all the snow, we haven’t had time to clear paths yet.”

Maxson reached out his hand, “Not a problem, Colonel Garvey, we’ve had a similar problem at the airport,” When Preston grasped his hand to shake, he noticed the scarf coming undone, slipping off Maxson's shoulders. The younger man continued, however, unaware, “I hope your General is well. Did he manage to make it here before we did?”

“He’s fine, but unfortunately, no, he hasn’t arrived yet,” Preston then began to reach up before stopping halfway, hands hanging in the air. Maxson blinked at him, and Preston was quick to explain, “Uh, sorry, the scarf… can I?”

Maxson’s face turned a bright red then, with his steely-blue eyes going wide. Preston swore he even heard a clicking sound come from the other’s throat like he was having trouble swallowing. Then, “O-of course. Go ahead.”

He stood straight and stiff, raising his head as Preston grabbed onto the scarf and began fixing it, readjusting the length so it was more secure. 

Halfway through looping it into a loose knot, Preston said, “You know, you don’t have to wear this ugly thing. I can make you one if you want.”

Maxson seemed to grow even tenser, “I— No, no, this is perfectly fine.”

Preston looked up then, giving the younger an amused expression, “You sure? It’s uh, not exactly the best looking, or even the most convenient length,” he raised an end for emphasis, “I’d be fine with knitting you one.”

“No, I— “ Maxson coughed into his fist, his face flushed, “I’ve grown to like this one.”

Preston raised a brow, “Really? Well if you like it that much, I guess I could let you keep it,” he said as he finished tying the scarf ends together.

“Really?” Maxson sounded a little stunned.

“Yeah, it’s just something I use for practice anyway.”

“T-thank you,” Maxson said, voice rough. Preston glanced up again, noting the red tinge to his cheeks and sweat dripping off his brow.

“You okay, Elder Maxson? You didn’t get sick, did you?”

“Wh— _No_ , I’m in perfect health,” Maxson made an awkward laugh then, “It’s just— you— “ he paused then, letting his shoulders finally relax with a sigh that sent puffs of steam into the air, “I’m not used to receiving gifts, is all.”

“Oh,” Preston said, blinking, “Well… I’m glad you like it,” he offered Maxson an amused smile.

Maxson looked as though he might actually get sick this time as he stared at Preston. Luckily, he heard yelling coming from the main entrance, signaling that the General had finally arrived. 

“Whelp, we’d better greet him,” Preston said as he turned back to Maxson. 

The younger man took a moment to regain his composer, “Uh, yes, of course. Lead the way, Colonel Garvey.” 

Preston rolled his eyes with a chuckle before heading to the entrance, managing to catch the, still very much present, blush on Maxson’s face.


End file.
